


A Guide on How to Enact Vengeance for the Snapping Off One's Horn

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Eq likes it when ED gets mad, I guess they got ambushed?, M/M, TW: Eyes being gauged out, Weird unknown imp enemies, matesprits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 21:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan and Equius are fighting jester/imps in an abandoned corridor of the lab on the meteor. Eridan is injured, and Equius finds that Eridan may not be as weak as he appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guide on How to Enact Vengeance for the Snapping Off One's Horn

**Author's Note:**

> They're matesprits cause I ship it. They got ambushed, I guess. This was just to vent emotions.

==> Be Equius Zahhak

The sounds of fighting are all around you, every troll for themselves, when your head turns away from the jester you’d just put down. You hear him before your eyes settle on his form. It’s sickening, the crack that resonates through the air and the blood-curdling scream. The noise isn’t even anything you’ve heard before, sending chills through you, like needles in your organs, your skin prickling. 

Then you see him, your matesprit, thrashing beneath an imp, his body jack-knifing off the floor. His hips jut up sharply, his assailant straddling his abdomen. They twist, and you see what caused him to cry out. A horn, you can’t tell which, is on the ground beside his head, and there are streams of purple running down his face. He’s hurting. And that makes you very, very angry. 

You feel phantom echoes of pain in your own lost horn, and your face twists into a grimace. You find the situation unbearable, watching as he bucks violently, finally unseating the imp. Before you can move to enact vengeance, he’s on top of the creature, earfins pinned flat against the sides of his face. His claws are out, raking down the jester’s clothed face. 

The bell-laden hat is dislodged, and you wince, recalling the times those claws have dug into your back as well. He roars, mouth wide and throat loose as he gives in to his animalistic side, driven by pain and the adrenaline of his blood status coming into light. He’s furious, voice echoing through the empty halls of the lab in an almost worse cry than the one of pain. 

It hurts to hear him, his jaw cracking as he screams louder, plunging the claws of his thumbs into the imp’s dark, iris-less eyes. You’re horrified, pleasantly so, knowing he’s retaliating and causing it pain as well. His knees, (which are bony you know), dig into the hollows above its hips, pinning it as it writhes. When he’s finished, his hands up to his elbows are dripping with the black gunk that is the imp’s blood. 

You want to go to him, to comfort him, to fix him. He has sank to the ground, trembling, and you feel his pain. You can’t bring yourself to move, blinded with rage. You’re matesprit is hurt. And so you go to him, you hold him, you fix him, even as your ears continue to ring with his cries. It only takes you a few hours to get his horn fixed back to the broken hilt of it, bandaged and welded with ointment and a metal sheath you made for him. 

He’s calm through the whole process, relaxed and pliant under your touch. You were impressed that he’d taken the pain so well, fighting back and even going so far as to gauge someone’s eyes out. This is why you suffered through being a seadweller’s matesprit. 

Eridan Ampora was truly a sight to behold.


End file.
